Pinch
by the-end1807
Summary: Because if magma can melt fire, then it can surely melt rubber...
1. Extinguished Fire

**Takes place when Luffy is grieving after Ace's death.**

**Enjoy.  


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Falling, falling, falling... Then, a pinch.

First, it was a pinch. Then it was a smack to your head. Then it was the endless collisions of your forehead to your palm. Then it was the shattering of boulders against your grief stricken knuckles.

Yet none of it would wake you up from this nightmare.

He was gone, there was no bringing him back. His words drift through your mind.

"_Thank you for loving me..."_

"_You're welcome,"_ you think, another tear slipping past the barrier that held it back so dearly. That tear was followed by another tear, which was followed by another. Then another, until they all kept escaping.

"_You're welcome,"_ you think again, clenching your teeth tight. A sob escapes your lips; a helpless noise reverberates throughout your surroundings.

"_I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..."_ your knees finally give away underneath you, and you crash to the ground. _"So sorry..."_

You realize that he has already forgiven you. You will never forgive yourself, however, for not realizing sooner that if magma can melt fire, then it can melt rubber as well. There was a reason that he jumped in front of you.

It was selfish of you to want to be king. You're weak, so utterly and hopelessly weak. So pitiful and pathetic in your actions and doings that you can't even keep one comrade by your side. Fingers yanking away at your hair, your face turning upwards, you scream at the sky, and scream and scream and scream.

Any coherent thoughts you had in your mind are now replaced with incoherent jumbled ramblings. Your jaw slacks, your screams fade, and against your will, your eyes slide slowly open.

You gaze longingly at the sky, down at your hand, and back up to the sky again.

The world is still spinning. The sky is still blue. Blood—his blood—is still crimson red.

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**AN: Whew, that was sad... xD**


	2. The Pirate Life

**Time for some Zoro angst!**

**Takes place after getting totally beat up by Kuma.**

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Red everywhere. That's all he saw, red. And he could feel the red dripping down his skin, into his boots; his whole body was covered in that redness that so painfully clawed at his eyes.

Did it hurt? Yes. It hurt like hell.

Did he particularly care? No.

And so he stood, his eyes fierce and his expression wild. He stood straight, unwavering, trying not to think about what had just happened.

See, Zoro's life meant nothing if faced with the risk of his captain or crew's welfare. The captain was everything, and the crew was everything. Without the captain, the crew was nothing. Likewise, without the crew, the captain was nothing. Either way, the outcome would be the same: no dreams to chase wildly. They all held each other together, each one of them being supported by Luffy's outstretched arms.

And it was because of Luffy that Zoro was even standing there all bloodied up. He owed his life to Luffy. That's why he could so willingly sacrifice himself to save the boy, even if it meant dying. He wasn't so sure anyone else on the crew could say the same for themselves.

And the shit cook, jumping out like that. One would've thought that he'd know the difference between trying to act heroic and trying to protect everyone's dreams. The stupid chef didn't have the same debt to pay, and Zoro was most certainly not going to let him get killed here. There was no point to the dumbass curlicue sacrificing himself here. No, it had to be Zoro. Why?

The whole crew knew that without Luffy, their dreams would be unachievable. Zoro had known this from the start, and had given his all to protect the captain, and in turn, the crew. Their dreams came before his own.

Because as much as he hated to admit it, he really loved those guys. Whether it was Nami's gluttonous attitude towards money, or Chopper's unbearable cuteness, Zoro loved them like they were his own family. Without them, there would be no "Strawhat Pirates", no dreams to follow, no thrill, no point to it all.

As he stood there pondering it all, a familiar mantra made it's way into his head.

"_...Live for the captain...live for the crew...live for your dreams...live for the captain...live for the crew...live for your dreams..."_

All that was red turned to black.


	3. A Stew of Thought

**Takes place after chapter 597... Sanji's point of view. **

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Black smoke rose as he lit his cigarette, inhaling his last few moments of freedom.

Two years it was, and two years it would be, as the captain had declared. So for two years, that's what he would do, looks forward to the day when they would all reunite and the blackness would finally fade. He wasn't looking forward to staying on this island with it's crazy natives, hell, even the shitty swordsman would have been better than them. But even the swordsman wouldn't want to be stuck on an island with him...Neither would the navigator for that matter...or the shipwright...or the handyman...or the doctor...Probably not even the captain, unless meat was prepared every five minutes.

He was just the cook, just the stupid shit cook. All he was good for was preparing food, and not even good food at that. Just average crappy meals served by an average crappy cook who could only get an average crappy bounty on his head.

"_So much for being a pirate..."_

It should have been him. That Devil Paw man should have used him instead of the swordsman, he should have gone ahead and done it before the stupid moss-ball butted in. Maybe he would've gotten stronger. Maybe he would've died. Maybe the navigator would swoon over him as he did for her.

He chuckled, inhaling the smoke that so dutifully filled his lungs.

Oh, he knew smoking was bad. That's why he did it.

Just one more thing for him to have to go through so that he'd have something special about himself. But it's not like chain smoking was all the significant. Plenty of people did it, and those plenty of people were a hell of a lot more interesting than he was. Those plenty of people had achievable dreams. They were set for life.

Him? He was stuck on this shitty island with crazy natives and no attractive women to waste his time on. His cigarettes were running low. He was separated from his crew. Now, more than ever, his dreams seemed more out of reach than they had ever before. Not that this was a new thing...

With a final puff, he dropped the butt of the cigarette, craving for another one. Pushing his hair back, he gazed into the horizon.

"_Two years..."_ he muttered, and watched as the sun seemed to burst into shades of bright orange.


End file.
